


you don't have to get a haircut, you don't have to shine your shoes

by bookishandbossy



Series: the next four years (college au) [3]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: College AU, F/M, Fluff, Jealousy, Jemma POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-05 01:01:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3099164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookishandbossy/pseuds/bookishandbossy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're allowed to find your best friend objectively attractive, aren't you?</p>
            </blockquote>





	you don't have to get a haircut, you don't have to shine your shoes

**Author's Note:**

> The title comes from "I Can Do Better Than That" from The Last Five Years (which is a beautiful and heartbreaking musical about the rise and fall of a relationship, told from both the beginning and end of it, and you should all go listen to it and drown in feelings :P).
> 
> There'll be about six installments in this series total.

"Get in loser, we’re going shopping." Skye honked her horn at Fitz and Jemma as they rushed down the steps of their building. "You have no idea how long I’ve waited to say that."

"I don’t understand why I need a makeover," Fitz grumbled. "I just think that you two have seen Pretty Woman way too many times.” He doesn’t really need it—he’s already quite good looking, Jemma thought, and froze in the middle of opening the door to the backseat. Where had that thought come from? Objectively, she knew that her best friend was attractive—he had a low body fat percentage and a symmetrical face and a certain kind of odd charm that she'd observed girls found increasingly attractive. He had very nice hands too, long-fingered and clever, the kind of hands that could theoretically inspire all kinds of indecent thoughts. Not that Jemma had ever found herself thinking them. Definitely not. Not that she even needed to have those kinds of thoughts. She had a very nice, if slightly dim, and very muscular boyfriend who brought her flowers and took her to the movies (if she hadn't already seen everything worth seeing with Fitz) and did everything else that went along with being her boyfriend in a very agreeable fashion. And she had an objectively attractive best friend who she did everything else with. You were allowed to find your best friend objectively attractive, weren't you?

“Jemma?” His voice broke her out of her trance and she realized that she was still standing in front of the door. She climbed in with a mumbled apology, and Fitz promptly scrambled in after her. They had a system for whenever Skye drove them places: Jemma sat in the middle so she could lean forward and gossip with Skye, while Fitz sat by the window and made music requests by tapping on the back of Skye's seat. “Jemma and I always sit together,” he said defensively when Skye rolled her eyes at him.

“I know. You guys are just too cute.” Skye pressed down on the accelerator—hard--and they rolled out of the parking lot with a squeal of tires and some more loud honking at the car that had the misfortune to be in their way. Skye's driving style could diplomatically be described as chaotic, and Jemma had a series of elaborate excuses prepared for the inevitable day when they got stopped for breaking traffic regulations (she'd attempted to compile Skye's traffic violations once, and stopped when she hit triple digits), but it was better than having either Jemma or Fitz drive. According to Skye, Jemma drove like a little old lady, although she preferred to describe it as a law-abiding citizen, and Fitz was constantly convinced that he could “improve” any car's engine, and seemed to think that speed limits were simply suggestions. She blamed his childhood, which he claimed was mostly spent messing around with other people's cars at his cousin's auto repair. Either way, Skye had good taste in music, always had a stash of snacks in her glove compartment, and regarded it as her personal duty to educate them about the great American road trip. Right now, she was insisting that their trip to the mall counted as a mini road-trip.

“I can't believe that you made a playlist about shopping,” Fitz muttered. “I didn't know that there were even that many songs about shopping. My ears may never be the same.”

“I am the queen of playlists,” Skye announced triumphantly. “And the fact that we're going to uncover your hidden hot guy potential deserves a playlist.”

“Why do I have to be hot?” He was going into a full-on Fitz sulk now, probably induced by not having eaten for more than an hour. Jemma recognized the classic signs: arms folded across his chest, lower lip sticking out in a ridiculous pout, foot tapping restlessly across the floor.

“Jemma and I already explained the plan. First we make you hot, then I take you to my sorority's formal, we take cute couple pictures all night, I hang all over you, the right guy gets jealous, and boom! The next morning he'll be on my doorstep with flowers begging me to go out with him. Which I will, after I make him suffer for an appropriate amount of time. Brilliant plan, right?” Skye turned up the volume on the stereo—something loud and relentlessly poppy—and punched the air with one fist in time to the beat. 

“Which guy is this, anyway?” Jemma asked. “Please say it's not our RA again—that was just too weird.”

“Nope. I found out that he's been sleeping with Professor May anyway. That professor that teaches the history of martial arts? And it's not like we were exclusive, but it was...weird.” Skye screwed up her face like she'd been sucking on a lemon, but brightened almost instantly. “This new guy is an exchange student from England and he's super cute—in a scruffy, grumpy kind of way. He's really funny, in this sarcastic, British kind of way, and he's got this rebellious edge and the accent...Jemma, I actually swoon. He just needs a tiny, tiny push and then...” Jemma couldn't see Skye from where she was perched in the backseat, but she was 97% sure that the other girl was making her best suggestive face at the mirror.

“Are you sure that I'm going to...well, work? Other guys don't exactly get jealous of me,” Fitz said quietly. Jemma slid a hand across the seat to squeeze his knee and gave him one of the brilliant, adoring smiles that she reserved especially for him, the kind meant to reassure him that he was her best friend in the world and that she happened to have quite good taste in friends. 

“Trust me, once I'm through with you, every guy there will be jealous.” Skye pulled into a parking space and slammed on the brakes. “Now get out of the car and if you behave, I'll buy you all the giant pretzels your heart desires.” Fitz practically leaped out of the car at that, Jemma following behind more slowly, and they let themselves be towed into the mall.

“That blue shirt,” Jemma said firmly. “You want a blue that'll bring out your eyes. And maybe a vest to go with it?” She dropped another shirt on the pile Fitz was holding and he staggered under the weight. “Try another pair of the dark jeans. Nothing baggy this time. And Skye is coming back with the ties in a few minutes, so don't move.”

“I couldn't move if I wanted to,” he mumbled darkly, voice muffled by the stack of clothes. “Am I going to change outfits throughout the night?”

“It's a full-on wardrobe makeover now,” Jemma told him giddily. “You needed it. I'm tossing out all those awful faded t-shirts, and that hideous purple jacket, when we get back. I honestly don't know where you found that thing.” Sighing in satisfaction at the thought of never having to see that jacket again, she waved Skye over, whose hands were now full of ties, and started to drag Fitz towards the dressing room. She sent him off with an armful of clothes, a series of strict instructions, and sank down onto a couch to interrogate Skye about the new boy. Then Fitz's voice came from the doorway, asking her and Skye what their verdict was, and her words stuck in her throat.

Her best friend was hot. Objectively speaking, of course. And she couldn't seem to take her eyes off him and he knew it and they were just staring at each other and this was going to become incredibly awkward incredibly soon unless someone talked. 

“Told you so.” Skye was smirking at both of them. “So, Jemma, how do you think Fitz looks?”

“He, um,” It was far too warm in here. Someone had probably turned up the heat and she should tell a member of staff about it. Preferably right now. “I mean, you.” It was far too dry here too. The words kept on getting stuck in her throat and when she finally managed to talk, it came out in a high-pitched squeak that definitely wasn't her normal voice. “You look great. Really great.” She nodded vigorously. “Everyone's going to be horribly jealous.” But not her. She was definitely not going to be jealous about her Fitz. Not that he was hers, he was just—Jemma gave up and let herself stare at him some more.

Yes, he looked good, she thought later that night. But he'd always looked good, under the t-shirts with faded logos on them and the baggy jeans. Nothing had changed. Which didn't explain why she currently had Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter all open and was frantically scrutinizing each and every one of Skye's posts. In her latest selfie, Skye had managed to drape herself over Fitz's lap in a position that showed off her very sparkly and very short dress, while Fitz appeared to be making a valiant effort to avoid looking down it. _A fabbulous night with my gui,_ the caption read, _and the best iss yet to come. Hee-hee._ Honestly. Jemma huffed in disapproval. Wasn't that going a bit too far?

She nearly choked on a piece of popcorn when the next picture popped up on her newsfeed. Skye and Fitz were on the dance floor or, more accurately, Fitz was on the dance floor and Skye was plastered against his front, every inch of her pressed against him. Someone had clearly seen Dirty Dancing one too many times. Jemma zoomed in, examining the exact placement of Skye's hands, which were dangerously close to Fitz' ass, and her mouth, which had latched onto his neck. If Skye kept that up, Fitz was going to have an enormous lovebite—and maybe a lot more—in the morning. Jemma shut the screen with a sharp snap but the image seemed to be permanently imprinted on the back of her eyelids. Every time she blinked, there it was: Skye's hands all over Fitz.

She was worried for Fitz, she told herself as she chewed aggressively on another mouthful of popcorn. He'd had a thing for Skye when he first met her, managing to trip over his words and his feet at the same time. And now, judging by her spelling, Skye was rapidly approaching full-out drunk, and a drunk Skye was a Skye who didn't do well with things like personal space or boundaries or consequences...Jemma just didn't want him to get hurt. As his best friend and as the person who'd be picking up the pieces for months to come if this night went south, she had a right to worry. She resolutely ignored the little voice in the back of her head, the one that sounded a little like her mother as it told her that actually, Fitz was technically an adult and actually, it probably wasn't any of her business and no, it wasn't like she had any kind of _claim_ on him. She ignored the voice that told her she could have a claim on him if she wanted to, the one that sounded like Skye, even more resolutely.

“Hmph,” Jemma muttered and flopped backwards onto her bed. She could have asked her boyfriend to come over, since her roommate was out prowling for her next victim, but she didn't. She could have kept on working her way through Netflix, but she didn't. She could have even started studying for her finals, which were a mere month away, but she didn't do that either. Instead Jemma lay on her bed and worried about Fitz.

Sometime around midnight, there was a knock on her door, three long and one short. It was Fitz's knock and she sprang up to let him in, swinging the door open to reveal a grumpy and disheveled Scot. The instant that she opened the door, he informed her that he was hungry. 

“Of course you are. Where's Skye?” How was it possible that he looked even better with his sleeves rolled up?

“Her plan worked.” Fitz grinned. “Lance showed up in the middle of formal and carried her off into the sunset. She tried to set me up with one of her sorority sisters before she left—apparently that's a Skye way of saying thank you.” He shrugged. “But I wasn't interested so I came back. To you.”

“Which one did she try to set you up with?” Jemma asked casually.

“Callie something, I think.” He flopped down beside her on the bed and peered mournfully into her empty popcorn bowl. “Skye had me dance with her a bunch of times, and then Callie talked me into studying with her for some of the engineering classes with her on Friday, even though she got an A on the last test. Weird.”

“She was flirting with you, Fitz!” Jemma leaned over and poked him on each word to emphasize her point. “Callie's gorgeous. And really smart. You're sure you're not interested in her?”

“Very sure. I, um...I like someone else, anyway,” he said quickly and sprang off the bed to grab one of the takeout menus on Jemma's desk. “Can we get pizza? Tony's delivers until three.”

“Do you want to talk about it? Come up with a plan of attack?” Jemma's hands unconsciously knotted in her comforter, waiting for his answer.

“I think this might be something that I need to figure out for myself. But when I do, I'll tell you. I promise. Since I basically tell you everything.” He smiled sheepishly at her. “Anyway...pizza?”

“Pizza. And then movies. Want to see a bunch of hobbits walk through Middle-Earth?” she offered and patted the spot on the bed next to her. He came back, bearing an armful of menus, and as she leaned her head on his shoulder and his hand came up to tangle in her hair, she pressed closer to him and nearly purred with contentment. Of course he'd come back to her. They always did.

They fell asleep curled up together on her bed hours later, after one and a half pizzas and most of the first two movies. And days later, Jemma still remembered the way that it felt to fall asleep with him, as easy as if they'd been doing it since the day they first met. And, remembering the way that they tapped their goodnights to each other through their shared wall, she supposed that they had.


End file.
